Spending the (self-made) long weekend in Isabela
Puerto Villamil Travel Blog› entry 10 of 89 › view all entries
This past weekend I went to Isabela with Paul, my former British roommate. He moved out 2 days after I had arrived. My first impressions of Paul was that he was a cross between Debbie Downer and that other chick on SNL who is always one-upping everyone else with ridiculous lies. In true British fashion, he was negative about everything but himself. But over the course of the week, his humor and my growing understanding of the inefficiencies of Galapaguean culture won me over. And his teeth weren't bad. Although he had a tendency to randomly insert statements like "I climb mountains" into conversations and we often had parallel conversations (owing to the fact that I also have a "strong" self-confidence), he also did the greatest impersonations of British comedians that I don't know and some North American ones I do know, most notably Dr.
Anyways, so I jump on this motorboat on Friday afternoon for a 2-hour, stomach-testing ride to the town of Puerto Villamil on the island of Isabela. A town that has been described to have "an end of world" feeling, and that it does. With only 1700 inhabitants, most of the "action" takes place on the main road made mostly of sand. Within 2 days, I knew all the foreigners on the island and was essentailly an old-timer at Bar Beto, a cute bar on the beach with walls made of plastic which created a fierce wind tunnel. Every song played was some sort of salsa with the words "corazon" and "arroz con huevos fritos". As I feel is necessary in most places I first visit, I got drunk on that first night.
Paul and I had planned on hiking Sierra Negra, the volcano, but as most nights that begin with 2 big bottles of beer go, we did not get anywhere near vertical until 11 AM during which time, there is absolutely nothing to eat. Restaurants are no longer serving breakfast and lunch doesn't start until 12 or 12:30. So we sit down and order a "crema de pollo" , a cream of chicken soup, which disappointingly comes out of a packet. It also came with a greasy piece of toast which was great for my baby hangover.
Then we took a taxi to the Wall of Tears to walk the 7km back to town through desert-like brush and the gorgeous, long beach. Along the way, we saw a shitload of iguanas and a pair of boobies, and no, the joke never gets old.